Man Called Shenandoah, A: The Complete Series (Blu-ray Review)
- Review Date: Feb 28, 2025
- Format: Blu-ray Disc
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Director
VariousRelease Date(s)
1965-1966 (November 2, 2024)Studio(s)
Bronze Enterprises/MGM Television (Warner Archive Collection)- Film/Program Grade: B+
- Video Grade: A
- Audio Grade: A
- Extras Grade: F
Review
One of the very last half-hour television Westerns, and one of the very last in black-and-white, A Man Called Shenandoah was virtually doomed from the start, opposite the popular Andy Griffith Show. It’s too bad, as the series is quite good, above average for its type.
TV Westerns had dominated the primetime network schedule during the late-1950s, but by the mid-‘60s many had been canceled, and new ones struggled to stand apart from the pack. Here, the interesting premise is that its hero, played by Robert Horton, is shot and left for dead in the first episode, and when he recovers cannot remember anything about his past, even his own identity. Adopting the name Shenandoah, he’s “doomed to wander,” following clues throughout the West, traveling like a drifter from town to town, hoping someone can tell him who he is.
Horton, of course, had co-starred, first with Ward Bond and then, after Bond’s sudden death, John McIntire, on the first five seasons (of eight) of Wagon Train, from 1957-62. The show was a huge hit, ranking either Number 1 or 2 in the Nielsen ratings during seasons 2-5, but its grueling production schedule, 37-39 50-minute episodes per season, required alternating leads. Some episodes featured only Horton, some only Bond/McIntire, sometimes both. (Or neither, for many episodes following Bond’s death but before McIntire’s introduction.) Though successful, it lacked the fine writing of the best Western shows, series like Gunsmoke and (in its early seasons) Have Gun Will Travel. Wagon Train leaned heavily on its sometimes-big league guest stars, with stories often sloppily sentimental, sometimes heavy on religion and very 1950s Cold War conservative values, some of this imposed by star Bond. Eventually tiring of the part, Horton left the series spending the next several years in musical theater, including a run on Broadway in 110 in the Shade.
The last thing Horton wanted was to do another TV Western, but the premise of A Man Called Shenandoah intrigued him, as well it might. Was Shenandoah a gunfighter? A gambler? A storekeeper? What if he falls in love, when he might have a wife and kids back home, wherever that might be? Although its cancellation meant audiences (and Shenandoah) never did find out who he is, the series was unusual in that little clues about his identity turn up occasionally, and sometimes the end of one episode would provide yet another new clue anticipating the story of the next one. Dramatically, A Man Called Shenandoah is much more interesting than all but the best Wagon Train episodes.
Another thing that must have attracted Horton was that he got to sing the show’s theme song, “Oh, Shenandoah,” with new character-specific lyrics. The series was constantly tinkered with as it went along, and gradually a reprise of the song, specific to each episode, was added at the end of each story. The folk song, dating back to the 1820s, would have been very familiar to 1965 audiences, as it was prominently featured in the wildly popular Cinerama epic How the West Was Won, in roadshow and general release throughout 1963-65, and there was the James Stewart Western Shenandoah, released that summer just before A Man Called Shenandoah premiered.
Horton plays a character not unlike Flint McCullough from Wagon Train, but with the added angst of not having a clue as to who he might be. The scripts deal with his amnesia in interesting and varied ways, partly because in almost every episode he has to explain to those around him of his condition, and his conversations with the people he meets about this are usually quite interesting. I had only heard of the series when I interviewed Horton in the late-1990s, specifically about the movie he made soon after the program’s cancellation, the outrageous The Green Slime. I recall asking him questions about his stormy relationship with Ward Bond on Wagon Train, but hadn’t seen this series. Wish I had.
The opening titles and some early episodes were shot in the snow-covered Mammoth Lakes in the High Sierras, and also some of these early episodes adopted and unusual visual style for a TV Western, with huge rainstorms and lots of nighttime, noir-like scenes, though as it progressed it looks more and more like a good but ordinary Western largely shot on MGM’s Western backlot streets. Still, it’s a little different overall, and significantly above average.
Warner Archive’s A Man Called Shenandoah: The Complete Series presents 1080p transfers from 4K scans of the original 35mm camera negatives. Thus, the series looks great in its original black-and-white, 1.33:1 format. Show bumpers, including one noting the ABC Television network at the end, are also included as part of these video masters. The DTS-HD Master Audio (2.0 mono) is also excellent, and optional English subtitles are provided. The series is generously presented across five discs, averaging seven episodes per disc, in packaging not much bigger than a single-feature Blu-ray case. No extra features, unfortunately.
Much superior to most of Warner Bros.’s TV Westerns from the 1950s, A Man Called Shenandoah is a welcome release. I’ve already watched about half the series, and am looking forward to the rest of it. I just wish Shenandoah found out who he was at the end.
- Stuart Galbraith IV